


Free Will Support Group

by chalkia



Category: Final Fantasy XV
Genre: Comedy, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Slice of Life, i don't even know what this is as you can tell, i guess ??, take all of that with a grain of salt kdfsd
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-12-03
Updated: 2018-12-02
Packaged: 2019-09-06 01:54:28
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,675
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16822777
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/chalkia/pseuds/chalkia
Summary: It dawns on him that "joining" the group is the most free will coded decision any of them have ever had.





	Free Will Support Group

Eating slower than the rest, Prompto still feels the sting of the gun he tried on the shooting range in his joints. Where he lacks experience, he makes up in ambition. Nevertheless, that gives him no jump start, and it’s evident by the way his voice dims.

“I’m thinking of— thinking of signing up to become part of the Crownsguard.”

No one stops, to his surprise. Noctis pushes his pickles to Ignis, Gladio keeps chugging down soda, Ignis wipes his hands off. The world doesn’t stop like he expected it to, leaving Prompto to be the only statue. At least an ill reaction would’ve been appreciated?

“Umm, hello?”

“We heard you,” Ignis speaks up first, looking at him in the eye for one.

“Well, yeah but what do you _think_?”

“Not much, to be honest,” Wiping his mouth with the back of his hand, Gladio adds. “I saw it comin’, is what I mean. What says your majesty?”

“Do whatever you want,” He says immediately, mouth full and finally swallowing. “I don’t mind.”

“That’s it?”

The three look at him, clueless as to what he meant and expectant for an explanation. They had a notion of where he was going, that much they knew, but Prompto had prepared for a reaction so different, he couldn’t handle the blunt normalcy thick in the ambiance.

“I—I mean, for some reason… I thought you’d all be opposed to it. I’m not noble and even less a fighter,” It’s a bashful, honest confession, very much not suited for this time and place of the day, but not any less endearing. “Maybe it was stupid to think that, but can ya really blame me?”

“No,” Ignis agrees, “Choose what you will. We’ll support you.”

“Yeah. You get to _choose_ , so take advantage of that.”

Now that has Prompto shooting an inquiring glance at Gladio; Noctis and Ignis know perfectly what he’s talking about.

“What do you mean?”

“As you said, you’re not noble,” Ignis folds his hands on his chest, guarding his body language as to not expose himself of any sign of ungratefulness of his upbringing. He’d be lying if he said he didn’t have doubts. “So you’re free to do as you please. Us, on the other hand—”

“—we’re trapped, long story short.” An addition that earns him a glare, Noctis doesn’t back down from his statement.

“Hey, have you considered _this_ could have been set for me long before I was born? Like— like fate! That’s a way of being trapped too.”

“Sure,” Gladio chuckles, shaking his head. The dismissal makes Prompto frown, akin to a child being brushed off.

“Ok, well, if you all have it so bad, start a support group or something.”

“About why we have no free will?”

“Pretty much, Iggy.” Prompto, more or less back from the previous seriousness, replies with no shortage of mockery. “First meeting is tomorrow, I nominate Noct’s place as our meeting room. No if’s or but’s, I expect you all to be there at five o’clock! A.m. or p.m., I haven’t decided—”

“We’re _not_ bringing you the next time we go out to eat.”

* * *

“Haha… hah… well, damn, I’m so gonna fail chemistry.”

“Tell me about it.”

Their shoes drop poorly by the entrance the moment they step in, and the school jackets pool on the floor when they fall off the hanger. The light hardly filters in, so if it’s not noticeable, they can pretend it’s not there. Prompto’s voice only echoes on the apartment when he’s nervous, speaking as if he’s good at keeping his cool. Keyword, as if.

“Actually, don’t—” he wipes the crumbs off his mouth, Ignis’ week-old leftover pastries the only thing he finds on the fridge. “It’s Friday, dude.”

“Yeah, and tomorrow Saturday, then Sunday, and before you know it— woah! Monday! The day of my actual doom. Graduation isn’t that far! If I cram this whole weekend them maybe, possibly, I’ll pass—”

“Prompto,” the thousand words per second had really shaken his attention span, dragging his hands down his face. He’s bent on the kitchen counter, staring daggers that he wished would, ideally, materialize.

“What! Gimme some support here, man.” Cross armed, his feet prop themselves on the couch’s armrest. “You can quit and be homeschooled whenever you want, if you _just_ asked. I can’t.”

“And stop seeing you? No way,” when he says it aloud, it sounds less cool. “Besides, that’s literally the only choice I’ve had over my life in eighteen years. Eighteen. Let me have this bit of freedom.”

“I dunno man, being handed everything sounds like so much fun.”

The faucet dripping takes over Noctis’ words instead. That left him speechless and, frankly, a little petty. But some odd self-control stops him from overflowing with frustration, all the thoughts he’s ever had about being prince compressed once again. Shoved back again. _There’s more to it, too much more,_ he wants to say, but doesn’t.

Because Prompto doesn’t understand, and Noctis doesn’t blame him.

* * *

“You’ve strength training from four p.m. to six p.m., along with meditation from six to seven. Tomorrow, you ought to take your first driving class, so please be ready for pickup at eight a.m. out of respect for the chauffer—”

“Ok, at what time do I breathe?”

Ignis doesn’t turn back nor look up from the notebook, visualizing the citadel with each step and still writing reminders. The pristine suits, the absent minded good mornings, looming chandeliers, they mean nothing to him. Even if it’s all he’s ever known or seen, Noctis still mumbles when the conversation is directed to him, sulks when more than a pair of stranger eyes watch him.

“No time for that,” Ignis humors humorlessly, perhaps more tired than king himself. He presses a button to call the elevator down. “But I needn’t remind you there _could’ve_ been, had you just listened.”

“Sucks.” Noctis murmurs, tugging a string of hair down out of habit and, more importantly, disinterest. “Can’t we go grab a bite first? Gladio’s gonna kick my ass. Might as well honor my last moments.”

That warrants a sigh through the nose from Ignis and, if Noctis didn’t know any better, he’d call it a chuckle.

“You’re gonna _eat_ my dust, princess. Don’t worry ‘bout it.” A voice comes when the elevator finally opens, earning a groan. Gladio doesn’t step out, still leaning on the railing. He gives Ignis an acknowledging glance and presses a hand between the doors. “Hurry. You’re late.”

“ _Ignis—_ ”

“Fancy having lunch with your father then? I heard he’s in the mood for lobster and giving a much deserved lecture.”

Noctis’ fist balls so tight, he feels his nails threatening to dig on his skin. This feeling of being ganged up on leaves him overwhelmed every time, drained of any possible optimism. Devoid of any voice, even. So he says nothing and gets in the elevator, all the while staring down, eyes narrow. Compliant.

That’s what all this life was about: shutting up and complying.

Ignis stands straight before the doors, and Gladio removes his hand. Just before the doors close, Noctis catches a glimpse of him; he doesn’t see any satisfaction under those glasses. There’s a hint of some remorse he can’t define, but he supposes that’s comfort enough.

The doors close. The elevator goes up.

Ignis feels no pride in having no choice in any matters, either.

* * *

“You’re late!”

“When is he not?”

“Now, now.”

Noctis didn’t expect to see them in his apartment’s living room, much less have the first thing to greet him be a scolding hand in hand with diss. He almost doesn’t want to close the door behind him, and he’s sluggishly changing to his slippers, all the while avoiding the three pairs of eyes on him.

“How did you get—”

“Going for brunch with your father on Sundays is a must on your schedule,” Ignis, know-it-all and apparent snitch, said while sitting on the couch and folding his leg over the other. “So Prompto used his spare key you gave him and called us for our first meeting.”

“He didn’t say that over call, though. Or else I wouldn’t be wasting my only free day here.” Despite the frown Prompto gave him, Gladio shrugged. “You brought the jacket I lent you?”

“That’s beside the point,” Standing up to give up his seat for Noctis, Prompto walks to the middle, arms on his hips. “I _did_ tell you all about the support group, didn’t I? Like Iggy said, this is our first meeting—”

“This is stupid.”

“Let him finish, charmless.”

“Thanks Gladio. Anyway,” everyone raises an eyebrow at the sight of Prompto pulling out a crumpled paper from his pocket. “Ok, I wrote down a list of matters we need to figure out before we begin the group.”

“Is the purpose of it one of them?” Noctis interrupts.

“Ok, two things. One: Noct, you’re banned from speaking unless you raise your hand. Two: it’s a support group dude! What’s there to explain?”

“Well _excuse_ me for never being on one—”

“What did I just say! Raise your hand or you’re getting kicked out first.”

“That wouldn’t be a loss,” Gladio intervenes.

“Prompto, back to the point.” Ignis ushers without glancing away from his notepad, just as absentminded.

“What I was gonna say is that, in case you haven’t noticed, we’re missing a group president, er, leader? head? Whatever you wanna call it.” He paces around as he speaks, thoughtful. “I say whoever has it the worst is the chosen one.”

If they stopped for a moment to process the prompt, it was actually laughably sad. Where do you begin to measure your bad luck and compare it to others? But this is all fun, all games, so it doesn’t matter how many pity points you have.

“I don’t presume Regis would join our club, nor be fond of that title.”

“Maybe charmless will be up for it.”

Noctis doesn’t miss a beat to speak, “ _Please_ kick me out, I’m begging you.”

**Author's Note:**

> there's no explanation for this i just wanted to have fun with this prompt i had at 2 am and take a break from all the angst kjfdnd uh hopefully i'll continue it!


End file.
